Between Us and Ourselves
by NordicsAwesome
Summary: Conjoined twins Feliciano and Lovino know that starting high school isn't going to be easy, but at least they have each other to rely on. However, as they settle into school life and begin to develop as individuals, the brothers realise that they must make sacrifices to stay true to themselves and one another.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hello everyone! So yes...I know I shouldn't really be working on another multi-chapter fic right now, but I am xD I've decided to try and branch out by writing different characters in a different style, so I'm not quite sure how this is going to turn out, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!**

 **Disclaimer: Seriously, do I even need to say this? xD I don't own Hetalia.**

 **(For those of you who don't know, Romulus is the human name I've chosen to use for Ancient Rome c: )**

Prologue

If he were painting the hospital, Romulus considers, he wouldn't need many colours at all. A dull, eggshell white for the corridors; sterile blue for the doors; perhaps an ugly shade of forest green for the gritty linoleum that makes harsh slapping sounds as the nurses march across it in their flat-soled pumps.

A door opens and closes along the corridor, and for a moment he can hear the faint, plaintive wails of newborns fighting for life. Foolishly, he listens to their overlapping cries, as if he would be able to distinguish his grandsons' tiny shrieks from the hundreds of other children packed into the clear plastic cribs of the Neonatal ICU. Of course, he can't. He doesn't even know, at this point, if his grandsons are alive.

A nurse sidles up to the front desk and begins whispering to the receptionist. Although their speech is inaudible, Romulus can see them shooting furtive glances in his direction, and when he hears his daughter's name muttered a few moments later he becomes certain that they are talking about him.

It is several minutes before the nurse approaches. She crouches in front of his plastic chair so they are at eye level, a gesture that makes him feel more like a young child than a 45-year-old grandfather.

"Mr Vargas…" She begins, then swallows and glances away. Immediately, he knows what she is going to say. "We're very sorry, your daughter…"

"She didn't make it, did she." He is astonished by the dull, flat tone that comes from his mouth. It doesn't sound like his voice at all.

The nurse shakes her head. "There were complications. We did everything we could. I'm sorry."

"I understand."

The conversation is too blunt, too formal, as if it is being recited from a script. It reminds Romulus of the stilted conversations he had had when he first arrived as a young Italian immigrant, bewildered and ignorant in the English language. Right now, he feels as lost as he did back then.

He knew that it was going to happen, of course – he knew from the moment Helena was wheeled away on a gurney, blood splattering the sheets at just twenty-nine weeks of pregnancy – but he had expected the moment to be more emotional. He had expected there to be tears, and shouting, and disbelief. Not this quiet, calm acceptance.

"And my grandsons?"

The nurse hesitates for longer this time, and something flickers in her eyes. Then she stands up, and gestures for him to follow.

"Perhaps it would be best for you to see for yourself."

He follows her down the corridor, a pace behind her fast march, and steps through the heavy double-doors into the ICU. The ward is a cacophony of wailing babies and beeping machinery and sobbing parents, but Romulus manages to block it all out as he squints against the harsh white light in search of his grandsons.

Another nurse appears. "Mr Vargas?" She touches his forearm to get his attention. "In here."

He is instructed to put on a mask and a gown before he enters the room. Seven or eight doctors stand around a clear incubator, gazing at it with a sort of grim fascination. Slowly, Romulus steps closer. He peers inside.

At first, all he sees is two scrawny twin babies. They are close together, their arms wrapped around each other, and he can't understand what the problem is. Although incredibly small, they are both very much alive and well.

Then they shift and turn in the crib, and everything changes.

From the neck upwards they are ordinary, healthy little boys with squinting hazel eyes and a thin chestnut down covering their sticky scalps. But from the breastbone down to the hip, their bodies merge into one, their pruned newborn skin stretched seamlessly across the point where their bones connect.

" _Santa Maria_ …" He whispers, astounded. It takes a moment for his mind to process what he has seen, and when it does, he looks up at the doctors with eyes as round as marbles. "Can I hold them?"

The doctors exchange doubtful glances. Turning away, they mutter amongst themselves.

"Let the granddad have his moment," one of them murmurs. "It's not like they're going to survive anyway."

Romulus pretends not to hear.

Carefully, the twins are extracted from their protective little box and wrapped in a blue hospital-issue blanket, then placed into Romulus' outstretched arms. Although he has not held an infant in over twenty years, his arms curl around them instinctively, cradling them to his chest.

Finally, the tears begin to drip down his face and splash onto their wrinkled skin as he holds them. Feliciano and Lovino. That's what Helena had wanted them to be called, he remembers, and now these names are all he has left of her.

"Your Mama loved you, you know that?" He says softly to the twins, who whimper and mewl in his arms. "She did. She loved you very, very much, and that's why she died so that you could be born. So that means that you two have to survive, okay? Now your Mama is gone, I can't bear to lose you as well."

The smaller one – Feliciano – gives a tiny cough, and instantly they are whipped away from him and tucked back into their incubator. Already, Romulus' arms ache for their warm weight.

Eventually, he forces himself to ask the dreaded question. "What are their chances of survival?"

Once again, the doctors exchange glances. Romulus hates that, like they are all part of some secret conspiracy to protect him against the frightening details of their condition. With his daughter dead and her boyfriend long gone from the scene, he knows that he will be legal guardian over the boys, so he is determined to find out everything.

"Tell me." He instructs, sharper than he intended to. The senior doctor clears his throat and pushes up his glasses. He glances down at his clipboard, although it's obvious to Romulus that he has already memorised all the information on there.

"Your grandsons have a 15% chance of survival at most. Due to their premature birth, both boys are experiencing breathing difficulties, which may or may not correct themselves when – or if – they get older. Also, both of them, especially the smaller one-"

"Feliciano. The bigger one is Lovino."

The doctor looks mildly annoyed at his interruption. "Especially Feliciano, are showing signs of heart problems. These could be treated with surgery to implant a pacemaker, once the surgeons deem them strong enough for the operation. We can also expect them to have a weakened immune system and possible developmental delays. After that, we don't know. This is the first case of conjoined twins we've ever had at this hospital, so this is unchartered territory for all of us. But for now, all we can do is wait, and hope that they survive the night."

Romulus looks down at his grandsons once more. They have fallen asleep, and as they lie there, still and silent, it is disturbingly easy to picture them lifeless.

"Is there any chance that they could be - "

But he cuts himself off, because the doctor is already shaking his head. "No. I'm sorry, Mr Vargas. There is no possibility of separation. Even if they do survive, Feliciano and Lovino will be joined for life."

 **Thank you for reading!**

 **About this fic: I have done my research for this, but obviously I don't have any firsthand experience, so I've had to use a bit of creative liberty! In this story, Lovino and Feliciano are (if my research is correct) thoracopagus twins, meaning they are joined from the upper chest to the lower stomach area. They have two arms, two legs, and a heart each, but they share several other important internal organs, which makes separation pretty impossible.**

 **Please review and tell me what you thought! I'm trying out a different writing style for this story, so I would really appreciate it if you guys told me what you think of it, and how I can improve. Constructive criticism is always welcome!**

 **Thank you, and goodbye!**


	2. Chapter 1: Lovino

**I has returned, and with another chapter for you guys! I know it's been a while (far longer than I intended) but life has been pretty chaotic at the moment, and I hope you can accept my sincere apologies and enjoy the newest chapter!**

 **Also, I try to reply to every review I can personally, but thank you so, so, SO much to everyone who reviewed, favourited and followed the previous chapter, especially the wonderful guest reviewers! You guys' comments give me so much motivation :3 I really hope you enjoy this next chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: Yep, that's right, I still haven't managed to magically transform into the fabulous Hima. So, sadly, Hetalia does not belong to me. This story, however, does. :)**

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Chapter One: Lovino

 _16 Years Later_

"Wake up. Wake up, Lovi."

The voice, although faint, is unwelcome in my pleasant haze of semi-consciousness, and I simply flip a finger in the vague direction of the sound and attempt to drag the covers further up over my head to block out the noise. Immediately, they are wrenched away.

"Lovi! Have you forgotten what day it is?"

Reluctantly, I peel open a bleary eye to find myself staring straight at my brother, who beams back, hazel eyes wide and sparkling. He looks far too awake for a Saturday morning, his hair mussed from sleep and his whole face alight with joy and excitement, and suddenly it clicks. _Oh, of course._

"Happy birthday, Fratello!" He chirps. His face is soft and blurry around the edges without my glasses, but even without looking I can tell that he is wearing a radiant smile, and it takes all my effort not to mirror it.

"Urgh…si,si. Happy birthday, Feli." I yawn, snuggling back down. "Now let me sleep, goddamnit."

"Nope, sorry!" Feli trills, not sounding the slightest bit apologetic. "I'm afraid I can't let you do that. Up, up! It's time to be awake!"

I groan, but allow him to pull us into a sitting position. "What time's it, anyway?"

"Umm…early?"

"Feli."

"Maybe…about six?" He at least has the decency to look sheepish about this as I punch him in the arm, grumbling loudly. "I'm sorry! I tried to stay asleep for longer, but I was just too excited, and I couldn't go get my book without waking you, so I decided to wake you anyway. Anyway, it's our birthday! Don't you want to be awake for every minute of it?"

"Mm." I don't dislike birthdays, exactly, but it's difficult to be enthusiastic about them when you know that each one could be your last. And it's not even like all those romanticised tales of terminally ill kids, living their lives to the fullest with their loving families gathered at their bedsides; it's worse, because we're not ill, and we'll have no warning of what's going to happen. Just, suddenly - in a second or a minute or an hour or a day, or fifty years – our hearts will give up, our lungs will cave in, and suddenly all we'll be is a cold, conjoined corpse, waiting to be sawn apart for the advancement of medical science. Or worse still, Feli's heart will stop, and I'll just be left there, helplessly watching him die as I slowly drain out into him, my blood still pumping into his lifeless veins.

I give the tiniest shudder, but it must have been enough to betray my thoughts, because Feli jabs me sharply in the ribs. "Stop, Lovi. It's our birthday. Be happy!" I force a smile.

My brother shuffles up against me and rests his head on my shoulder, his soft, sleep-ruffled curl tickling my cheek. "We're sixteen," he breathes in awe, "I can't believe it."

A bitter remark about our life expectancy rises on my tongue, but one glance at Feli's blissful expression banishes any thoughts of sharing it from my mind. I can't ruin our birthday for him. "Yeah."

Feli gives a huff of laughter. "How eloquent."

"Oi, I'm not awake yet! You're the one who got us up at six in the morning!" I retort, and my brother just laughs again.

I grin, then lean my cheek against the top of his hair, watching the morning rays filter through the edges of the curtains and bathe the room in an airy and almost ethereal light. Perhaps it's the breathtaking sunrise, or perhaps it's just because I'm not fully awake, but at that moment I feel completely at peace with the world, leaning up against my brother, best friend and lifelong companion, revelling in the fact that we have beaten all the odds and officially made it to adulthood.

I'm not sure exactly how long we sit there, lost in thought, but the sun has risen fully above the horizon and is beaming down past the curtain-rail by the time Nonno comes bursting in, a plate in each hand.

"Good morning, my boys! Time to wake up for a beautiful day!" He balances both plates expertly on one arm, a skill he's perfected from years of running the Pizzeria, and whips open the curtains to flood the room in a stinging yellow light. Feli and I hiss and screw up our eyes. "Ah, you're awake already. Happy birthday, bambinos! Sixteen years old – I can hardly believe it! It seems like yesterday that I was seeing you two for the first time, holding you in my arms…"

Nonno's eyes are becoming misty and I interrupt hastily in the hopes of averting a sappy monologue. "Yeah, yeah, Nonno, we know. We've heard this all before."

"Hush, Lovi," Feli tuts, "he's being sweet."

"I don't give a fuck what he's being, I just want my damn breakfast."

"Language, Lovino," Nonno reprimands, but he doesn't sound at all angry as he presses the plates into each of our hands. He pretends to bow, putting on an affected posh voice. "May I present to you our _casa_ speciality: crisp, golden pancakes with lightly whipped cream, strawberries and grated hazelnuts for the birthday boys."

Feli giggles and tries to bow back. "You may."

"What the hell is wrong with this family?" I grumble, spooning up a small mouthful of breakfast and trying to summon the appetite to consume it. "Fucking idiots, the lot of you."

"Ve, Lovi! Be nice!"

Nonno just laughs and ruffles our hair – normally I would shove him away, but seeing as we haven't brushed our hair yet this morning, it doesn't really matter – then sits opposite us on the bed and watches fondly while we tuck in. Or, at least, whilst Feli tucks in. One of the downsides of sharing a stomach is that Feli has most of it, leaving me with a ridiculously tiny appetite and a tendency to get sick when I eat too much. The doctors didn't figure out that's why I wasn't eating until I was twelve years old – before that, they figured I was just a stubborn little brat, and stuffed me full of protein shakes and all that crap. At one point, they even tried to diagnose me with an eating disorder. Fun times.

"Are you going to eat that, or can I have it?" Feli is eyeing my pancakes hopefully, and I shove the plate towards him.

"It's all yours. Knock yourself out."

"Grazie!"

As Feli finishes ravenously shovelling food into his mouth, Nonno rifles through our drawers and pulls out a set of clothes, then tosses them to us with far greater force than a sixty-year-old should be capable of. "Catch! Yao's coming round later, and I want you both to be dressed and ready to meet him."

"Whaaaat?" Feli says plaintively, letting his mouth drop open and widening his eyes. "I thought you said that we weren't having any lessons today!"

Nonno lapses into peals of laughter at the look of horror on his face. "Oh, Feliciano. Whatever am I going to do with you?" When his laughter dies down enough to speak, he clarifies, "No, no lessons today, so wipe that look from your face. Yao's only coming over for birthday dinner, like he has every year for the past ten years?"

I snort at my brother's gaping goldfish expression. "Wow, little bro. Your stupidity is almost impressive."

"Heyyyyy!" He whines. "I'm not little! I'm just as old as you, and I'm taller, too!"

"Huh, by what, two millimetres?"

He ignores my jibe. "And I'm not stupid, either! Tell him, Nonno!"

Already on his way out, Nonno puffs out his cheeks and shakes his head, giving an exaggerated, long-suffering sigh. "Don't call your brother stupid, Lovino." And, turning back to the door, "Now get dressed. Being sixteen doesn't give you an excuse to be lazy."

And with that he strides out, leaving Feli and I pouting at each other on the bed. After a few moments of glaring in silence, his lips start trembling and a second later he splutters with laughter, collapsing sideways against me and giggling helplessly. I try to hold onto my indignation for a while longer, but his happiness is infectious and we soon find ourselves sprawled across our double bed in hysterics, laughing until we're breathless and we can't even remember what's funny anymore.

Finally, Feli releases the last of his amusement in a contented sigh and leans back against our modified cushions, smiling blissfully. "I love this life," he states simply. "I couldn't be happier."

I manoeuvre myself up onto an elbow to look down at him. "Really? Even though we're, you know," I gesture to the join across our abdomen, "like this?"

"Conjoined?" He echoes, sounding confused. He runs his hand across the strange, numb patch of skin that connects us as if he hadn't realised it was there before. "Of course! This is our life, isn't it? We're fine the way we are."

"I guess."

Feli frowns. "I don't understand why it bothers you so much, Lovi. We've always been like this and you've never minded before. Why have you suddenly started getting all self-conscious about it?"

"I'm _not_ self-conscious!" I snap. "I don't care what anyone else thinks! They can go fuck themselves."

He doesn't even blink an eyelid at my bad language, having grown so used to it over the years. Even Nonno turns a blind eye to it, most of the time. "Then what?"

I roll my eyes. _Of course_. Feli wants to be a psychologist if he grows up, so I should've known he would use this as an opportunity to psychoanalyse me. I've walked straight into his trap. Now would be the time to tell him to fuck off and grab the clothes Nonno has laid out for us, but he's watching me with wide, eager eyes, waiting for me, so I relent.

"I don't give a damn what people think of me, that's not the problem, it's just…don't you ever wish you could just be _normal_? That you could just go hang out down town, or go to the park, or to the swimming baths, without every-fucking-body giving you the evils just for _existing_? Without everyone wondering why you weren't aborted in the womb? Wouldn't it be great to be able to do sports, to go to school, without having to worry about the fact that your heart and lungs could give out at any moment? Wouldn't that just be fucking fantastic?! Do you see my problem?"

Feli's eyes are glazed as he listens to me rant, staring off into the distance, and for a moment I think I've struck a chord in him. I finish speaking, and am greeted with an oppressive silence. Then he blinks. Shakes his head. "No." He says, so firmly that I almost believe him. "I've never thought that, and you shouldn't, either. It's good to be different, Lovi - that's what Nonno's always said, and Yao. And me. We wouldn't want to be like those boring, normal people; we're us. We're special. We're unique."

"We'll never make friends, Feli. We'll never fall in love."

"So?" He grins and flings his arms around me in a cumbersome sideways hug. "As long as we have each other we'll be fine, right?"

I can't stop the smile that spreads across my face as I return the embrace, gazing out at the birds that wheel and caw in the late morning sky. Feli's right. Even if we'll never be the same as everyone else, we'll always have Nonno and Yao and each other to rely on. And that's what matters most.

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 **Gosh, that was difficult…first-person present tense is harder than I expected! Still, I hope I didn't do too badly xD**

 **I know not much happened that chapter, but I promise there will be more action coming up! I'm trying to make the chapters shorter for this story (aiming for 2-3k per chapter) and hopefully have more regular updates. Do you guys like that idea, or would you prefer longer chapters, like in We Will Survive? Review and let me know! Or…just review about anything? It's you guys who keep me going! :D**

 **Thank you!**


	3. Chapter 2: Feliciano

**Wow, I think this is the fastest I've ever updated a story! And it's all thanks to the support of you wonderful, wonderful people! :)**

 **Before we progress to the chapter, I would like to answer a quick question from a lovely guest reviewer.**

 **Questi: Thanks for your review, I'm glad you asked! Feli and Lovi have an individual heart and pair of lungs each. They each have two arms and two legs (so four of each altogether) and don't share any limbs as such except the point at which they are conjoined (from just under their arms to their waist). They share a stomach, as well as most organs in the abdomen area, such as the liver and digestive system. I hope that answers your question well enough! :)**

 **Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I still haven't been able to take the magic Hima transformation potion, so Hetalia still is not mine ):**

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Chapter Two: Feliciano

It starts off like any other birthday, at first.

Yao arrives on our doorstep at around one, arms laden with presents, food and wine, with a large, flat tray of cake balanced haphazardly on top. His hair is tied back in a neat ponytail and he's wearing one of those embroidered Chinese gowns; red, with little golden dragons printed on it. "For luck," he tells us as he embraces us tightly in turn; Lovi first, then me. The soft, slippery fabric melts comfortingly around us. Lovi tries to squirm away. "And power and peace and prosperity." I wonder how one tiny symbol can mean so much.

For a while, we sit round the dining table and talk about mundane, everyday things; our neighbour Heracles' new cat, Yao's weekend job teaching at a young offenders centre, cousin Luciano's successes in his junior football club in Italy. Lovi's face tightens when we speak about that and I try to put a consoling hand on his knee, but he shoves it away.

"I'm _fine_ , Feli!" He hisses when Yao and Nonno turn away to light the candles on the cake. "Stop fussing."

I smile brightly at him. "Ve, okay. But Lovi – "

I want to remind him of our promise, the one we made when we were little and we first realised that we weren't going to live like other kids, but I'm interrupted when the lights flicker out and the singing starts up behind us.

"Happy birthday to youuuuuu…"

"Mother of God." Lovi buries his flushing face in his arms. "Make it stop!"

I just laugh and fling an arm around him as the noise continues, Nonno waving his arms like a conductor as Yao places the cake on the table in front of us. It's a wide, plain sponge, freshly-baked and smeared with buttercream icing to look like a panda's face. Sixteen candy-striped candles flicker from the surface, emerging from the panda's eyes in a vaguely demonic way. Lovi snorts at this and I nudge him sharply.

"Ve, Yao, it's so cute! Grazie mille!" I exclaim happily. "It looks so yummy!"

Yao smiles, evidently pleased, and passes us the knife. We cut the cake together, bridal-style, carving a thick wedge for me and a tiny, limp sliver of sponge for Lovi, and for a while the room is silent as everyone eats enthusiastically. After we've all finished our slice (or slices – I manage to cut myself four before Nonno notices and snatches the knife away) Nonno leans back in his chair with a contented sigh, licking the remnants of buttercream from his fingers.

"Well, that was _splendido_ as always, Yao," he praises warmly. His voice has become softer and more relaxed, slipping into the richer Italian intonations that appear when he is completely at ease. "I don't know what we'd do without you."

"Oh, nonsense!" Yao responds, the sharpness in his voice doing a poor job of stifling the affection beneath it. It's the same tone Lovi uses when he's embarrassed, and it makes me smile. "You know that you're as good as family to me, aru."

We know this. Yao has been coming to our house to teach us since we were six years old, and is probably the closest thing we have to a father, besides Nonno. Nonno often jokes about Yao being the son he never had. It's adorable.

"Will you two stop flirting and get to the damn presents already?" Lovi grumbles, and my eyes light up.

"Ooh, ooh, presents!" I exclaim happily, bouncing in our chair in excitement. "Can we open them now?"

"Aw, bless them," Nonno teases. "You wouldn't think they were sixteen years old."

"More like six." Yao agrees as he loads armfuls of presents onto the table. Despite our limited circle of close acquaintances, we always end up with a disproportionate amount of gifts on birthdays and Christmas. 'Pity presents," Lovi always calls them. 'It's to make up for the fact that we have no goddamn friends. Everyone pities the deformed, friendless orphans.' I don't agree. I hate it when he talks like that.

"Heyyy!" I whine in protest. "We're very grown up!"

"Yeah, we're fucking macho." Lovi agrees solemnly, and looks scandalised when we all laugh. "What? I'm being serious." But the subtle twitch of his lip and gleam in his eye give him away, and it's only seconds before he is spluttering as well. Yao passes us a parcel each.

It's obvious straight away that both presents are books, which doesn't really come as a surprise because that's what Yao always gives us. "Reading is knowledge," he often says sagely, "and knowledge is power." And, if we're never going to be as physically capable as other people, we might as well make up for it with our minds.

Lovi is already gingerly picking at the tape on the edges of his gift (he would never admit it, but he is an utter perfectionist), so I set to work, tearing away at the wrapping paper and throwing scraps everywhere until the cover appears. It's a thick, brightly-coloured volume about psychology, and I leaf through it eagerly. The writing is large and bold and easy to decipher despite my blurry vision, and the pages are dotted with bright, clear pictures - it's perfect. I don't even want to think about how long it must have taken for Yao to pick out such a wonderful gift.

"Grazie, grazie!" I launch myself across to embrace him. Lovi isn't expecting the sudden movement and stumbles, triggering an impromptu wrestling match, until Nonno hauls us back into our chair and tells us to stop being silly before we hurt ourselves. Yao tuts at him.

"Boys will be boys, aru," he says, fondly. "And Lovino and Feliciano are boys like any other."

Nonno looks uncertain and opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off by Lovi's quiet noise of surprise from beside me.

"Oh."

The sound is soft and flat, but weighted with such emotion and meaning that it stops us all in our tracks. I rest my head on Lovi's shoulder to peer at the book he is holding almost reverently in his hands. _Oh_. He flicks open the pages and gazes at them, tracing his hands over the illustrations of football positions, tactics, diagrams and instructions.

"Thank you, Yao," he says quietly, and I know he means it. Ever since we could walk, Lovi has dreamed of playing football. He used to cry when we saw the other boys playing at the park and couldn't join in with them, because he didn't understand _why_. Neither did I. We couldn't understand, back then, that running around like that with the other children could kill us. Nonno used to try and compromise by playing with us in the back yard, gently tapping a ball back and forth between us, but it just wasn't the same, and we had to stop that after a while as well because Dr Łukasiewicz said it was putting too much strain on our hearts. Lovi and I still do it anyway, sometimes, when Nonno isn't watching.

"Yao…" Nonno says warningly in a low whisper. "You know he'll never…"

"Shh, Romulus." He hisses back. "I bought him a book about something he enjoys, aru. What's the problem with that?"

"Because you know they can't - !"

"Shhhhh!"

The two of them dissolve into quiet, angry whispers. Lovi continues to stare intensely at his book as if he can't hear them, but his posture is too stiff and his eyes aren't moving on the page, and it's obvious that their argument is upsetting him. I hate it just as much as he does. Gently, I wrap my arms around him and lean up against him, and although he makes a token grunt of protest, his shoulders relax a little.

"Nonno, Yao-Yao, please stop!" I plead, feeling tears begin to prickle behind my eyelids. I give them my best puppy-dog expression. "Please! You're ruining it."

They both reluctantly turn to look at me, frustration still written across their faces. Nonno glares for a moment, then sighs resignedly and rubs a hand across his face. "Sorry, Feliciano." It seems that he has rubbed away all his anger because when he looks up at us, he is smiling. "Do you want to open the rest of the presents, then?" There is an unfamiliar glint in his eye, a sort of sparkle of anticipation, and it starts up a strange, apprehensive feeling somewhere deep in my gut. I brush it aside, though, and reach for the next parcel.

"Si!"

Lovi and I rip open the rest of the gifts until we are sitting surrounded by a scattered pile of shredded paper and various items. At first, they seem pretty normal; catnip from Heracles ("Why the hell does he always get us that?! He knows we only give it back to him!"), a movie from Dr Łukasiewicz ("Mean Girls? Really?!"), a sketchbook and oil paints from Aunt Katrina and Luciano, and a box of expensive white cream chocolates from the journalist who's been hounding us for months.

Nonno sighs at that. He carefully picks up the box and places it aside. "We'd better send them back," he says heavily. "It's a lovely sentiment, but we don't want her to get any false ideas. We're not going to talk to the press about anything." He raises an eyebrow at us. "Unless you want to, of course, boys?"

The idea horrifies me. We both shake our heads violently.

"Hell no!" Lovi yelps. Nonno smiles.

"Then that's settled then." He turns back to us, smiling, and the eager look is back in his eyes. "Aren't you going to open the ones from Yao and I?"

"Yes, Nonno!"

We switch our attention back to the presents and start opening the next batch, our confusion mounting with each gift we unwrap. Within minutes, we are awkwardly holding armfuls of stationary; binders and wallets and notebooks and erasers, and pencilcases filled to the brim with pens and pencils and highlighters. We blink up at Nonno, bewildered.

"What's all this for, Nonno?" I ask innocently, struggling to keep the disappointment out of my voice. Lovi is making no effort at all, scowling down at the newly acquired items in obvious distaste.

Nonno takes a deep breath. He clasps and unclasps his hands, twisting them the way I do when I'm nervous or excited. He closes his eyes for a second, then opens them. Then he speaks.

"Boys…Feliciano, Lovino. How would you like to go to school?"

* * *

 **DUN DUN DUNNNNN! And, the story begins!**

 **By the way, in this fic, football = soccer. They're Italian, remember? Also I'm British, so it makes the job a whole lot easier for me xD**

 **I really hope you're enjoying it so far! Please follow, fav or leave a review if you are! (or if you're not, of course, still feel free xD) Goodbye, and I shall see you next update!**


	4. Chapter 3: Lovino

**Aaand I'm back with another chapter! Thank you for all the favs, follows and reviews from the previous chapter! I'm sorry I haven't got round to replying to them all, but I'll do that soon :)**

 **This chapter is longer than the others – I would have split it into a couple of separate chapters, but I wanted all of this to be from Lovi's POV, so the stuff in the next chapter can be from Feli's POV. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!**

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Chapter Three: Lovino

"At least give it a _chance_ , Lovi," Feli pleads. His fingers work steadily, hooking the buttons through the hoops on the front of my nightshirt one by one, but his voice is wavering. It makes me feel bad to know I've upset him, but still, I refuse to look in his direction. "You might like it."

"I won't."

"You don't _know_ that!"

"I do."

My answers are blunt and non-committal, but at least they're better than a few hours ago. When Nonno had announced his proposal earlier, after dinner, my first reaction had been to laugh, because there was no way in hell that he could have been serious. Then, when I realised he had not been joking, I had shouted. I shouted and yelled and screamed at him, telling him that he was a terrible guardian, that he didn't know what he was doing, that he might as well throw us to the fucking lions than abandon us amongst the other, _normal_ , teenagers in high school. Feli had hovered anxiously by my side the whole time, twisting his hands and bleating plaintively at us to stop. I ignored him. Fury was the only way I knew to release the crippling waves of fear and desperation crashing over me.

Then, when I had shouted so much that my voice was nothing but a hoarse whisper and my face was hot and streaked with tears, we stormed away to our room. Feli poured me a glass of cool water then sat on the edge of the bed pretending to read his new book as he waited for me to calm down. He knew better than to try to talk to me; if he had, I would have erupted like a volcano. We maintained the heavy silence for hours, until the sky grew dark and Yao knocked softly on our door to tell us that he was leaving now, and that we should get some rest.

"You'll feel better about it in the morning," he assured us gently through the light wood of the door. We didn't want him to come in. He hadn't tried to. "I mean it, aru. These things are overwhelming at first, but if you sleep on it and talk it over in the morning, you'll be able to think much more clearly. Remember, though – no one is forcing you to do anything you don't want to do."

Well, it sure as hell felt like it.

"Please, Lovi. Don't do this to me. Don't shut me out." His hands pause where they are on the buttons, halfway up my chest. Above my shirt, the thin, white scar is just visible; streaking across my chest and ribcage and curling away over my collarbone. There is an identical scar on Feli's chest, too. I've seen it countless times. My brother's voice lowers to a soft murmur, and he ducks his head. "It might not be like last time."

"How do you know." It's not a question. I already know that he doesn't know, because it's not true. It's going to be just as bad as it was all those years ago – worse, even – and we both know it.

He struggles. "Well...ve…it won't be as bad, going to school with teenagers. They're not little kids like last time. They'll be smarter and more accepting."

I don't buy his bullshit for a minute. "Smarter, huh? Smart enough to think up more creative names for us – are 'freak' and 'monster' not good enough for you anymore? Is that what you –"

"Lovi!" His hand shoots out and grabs my wrist, eyes flashing. He looks horrified, and I don't blame him. We never use those words in our household, ever. "We were six years old then. Now we're sixteen. It's been ten years since all that stuff happened – I bet everything will have changed! Back then, they were so young; they didn't know what they were saying. They didn't mean to hurt us. Teenagers will be different."

"Yeah, because they'll be doing it deliberately."

"No! Because people are basically good, Lovi. Now they're older, they'll understand."

 _People are basically good_ , huh? I don't know what planet Feli grew up on, but it sure as hell wasn't this one.

"No, Feli. I'm not willing to make us go through this. I don't want you to get hurt again when it all goes wrong."

"You mean, _you_ don't want to get hurt." Damn it. There are times when I really hate Feli's perceptiveness. "You're scared. That's okay. I am too. But I really, really, _really_ want to do this!"

I know that he's giving me puppy-dog eyes so I turn away, because we both know that I always fall for it, and I'm not giving in this time. I refuse to put us through this. Feli's voice softens.

"Do you remember the promise we made, back when we first realised we weren't going to live like other kids?" I remember. Of course I remember. "We said that we weren't going to hold each other back. That we were going to let each other do everything we could."

Fuck. I can already see where this is headed, and immediately I know that he's won. There's no way I can fight against The Promise. We had made the pact that very day, after Nonno had brought us home from the Principle's office on our first day of school. He had managed to coax us out from cowering under her desk, hauled us into his arms and carried us home, then sat us down on his big double bed to wipe the blood and tears off our faces. It was special, that bed, because we were only allowed in it when we were sick or had a nightmare, and the minute we were cleaned up and felt like we could breathe again, we had made The Promise. And, for ten years, we had kept it.

"Do you remember, Lovi?" Feli presses.

I close my eyes. "Yeah, I remember."

"So will you come to school with me?"

"I hardly have a choice, do I?"

Feli grabs my hand, and I know immediately that if I had wanted to back out now, he would have let me. I stay silent. He squeezes my hand.

"We'll try it, just for one day, and if you don't like it, we'll stop. We'll find someone else who could tutor us."

I don't want that. I don't want anyone else but Yao. Except, of course, Yao isn't going to be here anymore. He's going away to China to care for his dying father, and none of us know when he'll be back. That's the reason we're in this situation in the first place.

I open my eyes. Feli's are boring into me, burning with an amber passion.

"One day." I swear. "I'll give it one day."

He squeals and flings his arms around me, pushing us both back onto the bed. "Ve! Thank you, Lovi! It'll be so much fun, you'll see!"

I highly doubt that, but I keep my mouth shut and hug my brother, rolling my eyes and trying not to smile. This, I decide, is worth it, to have Feli on my side; I can endure one day of school with him beside me.

We settle down on the bed and pull the covers over us. Feli snuggles up against me and rests his head on my chest, just beside the tiny bump where my pacemaker sticks out through my skin.

"Ti amo, Lovi," he murmurs the way he always does, already half asleep.

I lie there in silence, keeping completely still until I feel his chest begin to rise and fall with deep, steady breaths, and wispy snores begin to whistle out of his mouth. Then, when I'm certain he's asleep, I whisper back into the darkness, the way I always do;

"Ti amo, Fratello."

* * *

The next few days are chaos.

The moment we tell Nonno of our decision he springs into action, constantly on the phone to school teachers and counsellors and the Principle, telling them about us and the 'special provisions' we'll need. The sewing machine is an endless whir in the background as he adapts new clothes and patches up old ones to wear for school, and Yao is always coming round between packing to give us books and satchels and wise words of advice and encouragement.

On the second day after our birthday, Nonno decides to take us to the mall.

"You'll need new clothes to make a good impression, all the right textbooks, and perhaps we'll see about getting you contact lenses instead of those cumbersome glasses – as dashing as they make you look, I know for a fact that Feliciano will lose his on the first day."

"We might not be staying longer than a day," I want to tell him, but I don't, because he and Feli are having so much fun prancing about the mall, and I'm not a completely heartless bastard. It doesn't matter, anyway. I'll be glad to have contacts, although I don't know why Nonno thinks it will make us look more normal – because that's what he's aiming for, of course.

Nonno leaves us alone for a while as we go to shop for clothes, grumbling that he "Can't abide those trendy kids' stores, with all the young people looking at me like I'm prehistoric" - I'm tempted to make a comment about the way they look at _us_ , but manage to restrain myself - and agrees to meet us in the café across the road in half an hour, after nagging us about staying safe and sitting down if we feel the slightest bit tired.

Feli and I spend a while messing about the clothes racks, picking out the most hideous clothes we can find and holding them up against ourselves, giggling madly. We're making a spectacle of ourselves but I don't give a fuck, because everyone's staring at us anyway. They always are, no matter what we do. After a while, a store assistant comes over to speak to us.

"Uh, do you, uh, need any help or something?" She asks, her eyes purposely darting anywhere but our abdomen. Even her porcelain mask of make-up can't disguise the disgust and morbid curiosity written all over her face.

"No, we're fine, thanks!" Feli beams, whilst I give her the most venomous look I can muster. The moment she's gone, I hiss;

"God, what a bitch."

"Lovi!" Feli slaps my arm, scandalised, but he's trying not to laugh. "Come on, let's go find something pretty!"

"We're not looking for pretty, goddamnit," I growl, following. "We're looking for cool."

He shrugs lightly. "Same thing."

I mock punch him and he laughs and ducks away, and we end up running between the racks and giggling like five-year-olds, for once not even caring about the curious eyes and camera-phone lenses that follow our every move.

* * *

We're both a little less than thrilled when, on our way back from the mall, Nonno pulls up outside the doctor's office and announces that we're having a last minute check-up.

"It's nothing serious," he assures us as he reverses into a space, "Just a quick check to make sure you're all good to go to school."

 _School_. Just like that, all the fear comes rushing back. For a moment, I almost wish that something would come up, some infection that meant we couldn't possibly go to school, before I realise how fucking stupid that is, that something like that could kill us. I stare stiffly straight ahead, keeping my face purposefully blank, but Feli slides his hand into mine and gives it a gentle squeeze.

The receptionists recognise us immediately, and we go straight through to Dr Lukasiewicz's office. He holds the door open and gives us a winning smile as we enter.

"So, you're off to school, huh?" He asks casually once he's got us settled on the edge of the couch, tightening the pressure cuff around my forearm. "That's, like, so awesome! You'll have to tell me all about it."

"We will," Feli promises. I say nothing, silently gazing around at all the pink My Little Pony posters covering the walls. Feliks says its to help him "connect with the younger female patients" or some bullshit, but we all know that he's the one who adores the show. It's often the theme of jokes in our house.

There's an expectant pause where I know they're waiting for me to say something, but I don't. Feliks shrugs and continues, "You'd better, like, tell me about any hot girls you meet, yeah?"

He winks at us, grinning mischievously as he wipes Feli's arm and prepares the needle. I snort contemptuously – after all, what would any hot girls want to do with us – but Feli giggles as though it's the funniest thing he's ever heard.

"Oh, we're gay!" He informs him cheerfully. I kick him subtly in the shin, scowling, because I don't see why that idiot feels the need to announce it to everyone like that, as if it doesn't matter that it's yet another thing that further separates us from everyone else.

"Ow!" Feli yelps.

"Sorry, sorry, I'll be done in a minute…" Feliks mutters apologetically, misunderstanding, then withdraws the needle and grins back up at us. "Oh, really? Well, tell me about those hot boys, then."

Feli salutes him. "Yessir!"

"Hmph."

Feliks grins, pressing the cold end of the stethoscope to our back. "Like, someone's in a worse mood than usual today. Worried about school?"

He says it lightly, but there is an undertone of genuine concern in his voice, and I feel a twinge of guilt for making him worry. "No, I'm just great. So fucking excited."

Feli squeezes my hand again. "Lovi's scared that the other kids will be mean to us."

I kick him again, harder this time, but he manages not to cry out. Instead he just gives me a wounded puppy look, as if saying _"what did I do now?"_

"Well," Feliks tucks the stethoscope away. "That might be something to talk to Dr Laurinaitis about." He straightens up, and turns back to face Nonno. "Everything's looking peachy, Mr Vargas. Heart and lungs working just fine. Of course, they'll still have to, like, take it easy as always, but they should be alright. If, however," –at this point, he suddenly turns serious, and Feli and I exchange anxious glances – "they show any signs of dizziness, nausea, fever, chest pain, seizures…" -here he looks pointedly at Feli, because although Feli's only had four seizures since he was born, and none for years now, they are the most fucking terrifying thing I have ever experienced – "any of that crap, you pull them out of school and bring them straight to me, okay?"

Nonno nods gravely. "Understood."

"Coolio!" Feliks claps his hands and helps us off the couch. "Off you go to see Toris, then you'd better get home and have a good night's sleep for tomorrow. Good luck, guys! You'll do great!"

He waves us off cheerfully down the corridor, but when I glance back over my shoulder, I swear I see a crease of apprehension furrowing his brow before he slowly closes the door.

Toris greets us with a gentle smile when we enter, setting his papers aside and gesturing to the couch opposite. He's a quiet, softly-spoken man with smooth, chin-length hair and warm green eyes that seem filled with genuine concern and affection, but with an undertone of heavy sadness that makes him look as old as Nonno, despite his thick hair and smooth complexion. In reality, he's only about the age our Mama would have been.

"Hello, Feliciano, Lovino," he says, after assuring Nonno that it's alright for him to sit outside for this session. "How are you feeling today?" He looks steadily between the two of us.

"Ve, we're okay, thanks!" Feli smiles. "I'm really excited about school, but Lovi's a little scared."

"Feli!"

"That's good to know, Feliciano," Toris smiles, "But I'm sure your brother can speak for himself. Would you like to go first, Lovino?"

I shrug and glance at Feli, who smiles encouragingly, already untangling the earphones from his iPod. I wait till he's picked a song. He gives us a thumbs-up, and Toris sits forward in his chair.

"Starting high school is always difficult," he says, "for everyone. But it's going to be even harder for you and Feli. I'm not going to try and hide that from you. It will be hard. At your age, everyone wants to fit in, and that's going to be a lot more difficult for you two."

He pauses, waiting to gauge my reaction, and I nod uncertainly, because I don't know what he's trying to do but it's really not helping at all. Beside me, Feli nods along obliviously to some catchy pop track through his earphones, turned up so loud that I can hear its tinny crackle next to my ear.

"But that doesn't mean it's impossible. Sure, it's going to be tough, but I think you'll be able to manage it. Do you remember, Lovino, what the chances were of you and Feliciano living to be sixteen?"

I clear my throat. "Uh, small?"

"Very, very small. Minute. But you did it. And I'll just say, of you two are strong enough to do that, then I know for a fact that you'll be able to handle high school. No problem."

He leans back in his chair, smiling. "Sorry, I've used up so much of your time. Is there anything else you wanted to ask me about?"

I shake my head.

"Alright," he says warmly. "I'll just have a quick talk to Feliciano, now, and then you're free to go."

I tap Feli's knee and he passes the earphones to me. I plug them in and turn the volume up loud, watching as Feli waves his arms around excitedly, a bright, dazzling smile beaming across his face as he no doubt tells Toris all about the fun we're going to have, the friends we're going to make, the awesome high school parties all the other, normal kids will be invited to and of course we'll be invited too, because we're just as normal as them, at least in Feli's eyes. Sometimes I envy him that.

* * *

When we leave the doctor's office, Nonno has another surprise for us. Once we're out in the parking lot, he sits us down on a bench at the side and presses a plain, identical charcoal box into each of our hands. It's small, small enough to hold comfortably in my cupped hands, and is surprisingly heavy, making a thick clunking noise when I tilt the box.

"Go on," Nonno smiles when he sees our curious expressions. "Open them."

Feli starts tugging at the cardboard packaging, and I follow suit. I yank the sleek black object out and gape at it in astonishment.

"Nonno!" Feli gasps.

Nonno chuckles, looking delighted with our reaction.

"Consider it a late birthday present," he says. "I bought them when you were shopping for clothes. I decided you were old enough to have one each, now."

The shiny metal casing on the mobile phone reflects the sunlight in silver lines as I turn it over in my hands, examining every part of its brand new, unscratched body. I love it; it's the best gift I've ever been given, and yet…

We don't have anyone to call.

Feli reads my mind. "We can call Yao, can't we, Nonno?" He asks eagerly.

Nonno nods. "And me, of course. I want you to put my number in both of your phones now, so if you ever have any problems at school you can call me whenever you need me."

I roll my eyes at his protectiveness, but I can't stay mad for long. "Fine, fine."

Nonno shows us how to do that, then we all get back in the car and drive home. We take our meds and pack our schoolbags and carefully slide our new phones into the pockets of our school trousers so we can't possibly lose them, then we climb into bed and switch off the lights and whisper our nightly ritual.

Then I close my eyes, listen to my brother's steady inhales and exhales, and try my hardest to sleep. I think of Yao, packing all his belongings into suitcases and hugging his nephew - who Yao promised would look after us in school – goodbye and waiting outside in the rain and wondering if his father is still going to be alive by the time his plane touches down in China in the early hours of the morning. I wonder if he's thinking of us, how we'll get on. Probably not. He has more important things to worry about.

I shift uncomfortably in the bed, trying to fight down the heightening waves of anxiety that are beginning to overwhelm me. Feli stirs and mumbles in protest, shuffling closer. I'm tempted to wake him, because I really don't want to be alone right now (The irony of that doesn't surpass me. I've never been alone in my life), but I don't, because I know that he'll want to talk to me about it.

And whilst I appreciate that, somehow these moments feel special, sacred. These moments when I'm awake and Feli isn't, when I can hear his quiet breathing beside me and I can imagine that we're not one body but two, that I could roll over and climb out of bed and Feli wouldn't follow. Because it's in these silent, fleeting moments that I can be normal. I can be alone.

But at the same time, it's comforting to know that I won't ever have to be alone, to know that Feli will always be here at my side to laugh and joke and calm me down and comfort me and whisper to me every night and be my best friend and my brother and everything I've ever needed him to be. Because I do need him; I love these moments of alone, but I need Feli more than anyone or anything else.

Goddamnit, I love Feli. And if anyone gives my brother trouble at high school, there'll be hell to pay.

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